A CHILD OF SOUTHERN GERMANY.
[THE APPRENTICE'S LEAP.]
A STORY OF LONDON BRIDGE.
BY DAVID KER.
Sunset over London, on a fine summer evening in the days of "good Queen Bess"; tall, quaint old houses, with peaked roofs and countless gables, standing up on every side, and the Thames lying in the midst like a broad sheet of gold, save where it was flecked by the dark shadow of London Bridge, then a regular street, with houses along each side of it.
Just above the middle arch rose a house larger than the rest—that of Sir William Hewet, cloth-worker, and Burgess of the city of London. The sunset made a glory upon the windows of the old mansion, and lighted up the balcony, on which Sir William's baby daughter was crowing and clapping her tiny hands with glee at the sight of it, and stole into the work-room, where the youngest apprentice, Edward Osborne, was beguiling his task by singing the ballad of "Brave Lord Willoughby," which was as popular in that age as "Glory Hallelujah" is in this.
"Ah, if I could but have the chance of doing such a deed as that!" murmured the boy as he ended.
"Well, well, my brave lad," answered the cheery voice of old Sir William, who had entered the room unperceived, "you're on the right road to it by being diligent at your work. Keep to that meanwhile, and never fear but the chance of doing great deeds will come all in good time."
Little did either speaker or hearer guess how soon and in what way those words were to come true. Scarcely had the old knight left the room when the boy was startled by a sudden shriek from the balcony overhead, and by something white flashing past the window into the depth below. Sir William Hewet's only child had leaped out of her nurse's arms, and fallen headlong into the river.